Endlessly Moving Map

August 19

Endlessly Moving Maps

I try to survive by memorizing the chaos.  I do well up to five layers deep and then lose it, as the details become too great.  I am staking my life on my ability to track the patterns in a storm while at the same time treading water.  I think this skill kept life and breathe in me for many years, but now I fear I’ll drown in this roiling mass.   I must touch down my tender toes and learn to walk this twisting path and keep a pace with this spinning world.  Everything moves and I am overwhelmed.  I have forgotten my flesh and blood nature; have mistaken myself for a stone, one which dare not roll, one which has no part in this endlessly moving map.

Be honest with your toes

*

SATISFACTION

Satisfaction is like a marble in my pocket.

Formed when correctness was still red hot

And my sponsor rolled my mind until I was whole.

I sigh and square my shoulders

I know I am up to any task.

I am skilled with my tools and know well the talents

Of my intimates and helpmates.

I am not invincible but I am capable.

I value who and what I am today.

I sleep the sleep of a person

Not a hostage or captor, I am me.

I have a marble in my pocket

And it reminds me of the world.

I have a world within me

Knowing how to live with that

Is a great satisfaction.

You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/More-Sober-The-Way-Sane/dp/144141231X/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1374072329&sr=8-3&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/Lines-My-Life-Sherrie-Theriault/dp/1448652820/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1374072576&sr=1-1&keywords=Lines+from+my+life%2C+Sherrie+theriault

Conception 2

March 11

Conception 2

My active voice is the elixir of fire my addiction would have me snuff in order to keep us hidden from each other, me hidden from you, you hidden from me and no one noticing you or I pouring the drinks.  Minus my active voice I slip easily into unconsciousness, my effectiveness doused.  My active voice is the light in my room the candle in my window, the glow within me, which illuminates my days as well as my nights.  Moving ever forward the gyroscopic precision of this voice never fails me if I keep my “listening ears” turned on and tuned in.  My active voice is and will always be the live wire connection of my Higher Power uniting with me through people, places and things.  My effective conscience is everything that results from this bond.  I run at an unfathomable rate of efficiency when my active voice is on, my feet fail to touch the ground as I fly to right action, the nature of my effective conscience is just that, nature, as natural as if I were not carrying a fatal malady, but instead possessed the secret to serenity, which in fact I do: sobriety. 

Try not to confuse available with empty

*

SPIRITUALITY

The bedpan of spirituality
Was shoved under my ass
Early in sobriety

It kept me from increasing the mess
With which I surround myself.
The cold smack of enamel got my attention.

The old timers showed me there is a place for my shit
It was not any of the places
I had been using.

My side, your side, all sides were strewn with my waste
Fragments, tatters and fearful reminders
Were all there for me to clean up.

Amends as the shovel
And willingness as its handle
Is what I use to clear my past.

Sweat is refreshing when progress is being made
I've made inroads, paths of travel help me more easily
From the past to the present without regret.

Megaphone

September 22

MEGAPHONE

The point of surviving, or maybe the goal after survival, is enabling the voices of victims to be heard, starting with my own.  I allow the surging waves of thought and feeling to rush the gates and exit.  I try to bleed the bad with and without the use of leaches.  So much is stumbled upon rather than sought after.  Some things hound me; I run down the street with memory at my heels.  I must let the screams out or become them.  Today I talk, tomorrow is for others.  When I pour forth, I open the way for the rest.  I have become the megaphone rather than the cheerleader.  It is good to be of use.

Pollinate ideas.

*

Peace Time

I have been to the wars and through the wars

and now sit on the stoop and wonder;

will I learn to live here in the world of everyday

after having had to spend so much time running for cover.

Each time I return to what I believe is my home

I sit and rock trying to pour my soul back inside

from my hipflask where it was held for safekeeping.

I try not to spill a drop

for it is worse than shed blood and harder to rebuild.

My soul has grown pale from confinement and lack of sun,

but it still exists and for that I pat my back

and suck on my Lifesaver;

I could have done worse, was unable to do better.

I console myself with the knowledge

I never started the conflict just learned to survive it.

Megaphone

September 22

MEGAPHONE


The point of surviving, or maybe the goal after survival, is enabling the voices of victims to be heard, starting with my own. I allow the surging waves of thought and feeling to rush the gates and exit. I try to bleed the bad with and without the use of leaches. So much is stumbled upon rather than sought after. Some things hound me; I run down the street with memory at my heels. I must let the screams out or become them. Today I talk, tomorrow is for others. When I pour forth, I open the way for the rest. I have become the megaphone rather than the cheerleader. It is good to be of use.


Pollinate ideas.